Don't Ask, Don't Tell
by waterlilylf
Summary: What's the best way to annoy your seriously conservative, staunchly pacifist family after they disinherit you? Take up pole dancing or enrol in a military academy? 3 4 get together. Yaoi.


Disclaimer: I don't own the Gundam Wing Characters and make no monetary profit from writing.

Pairings: 3+4 Get together; mention of 1x2, 13+6

Note: Many thanks to Kaeru Shisho, in whose blinding radiance I am privileged to bask.

**Don't Ask; Don't Tell: **

It was the sixth time that week, and it was still only Wednesday.

Quatre sighed as he surveyed the filth that had been scrawled on his locker. Disgusting, without even having the benefit of being original. Or even grammatically correct. Or anatomically correct, come to that.

At least, he didn't think that it was anatomically possible.

Maybe those two Neanderthal knuckle draggers knew more about gay sex than he did. Life was full of ironies, after all.

He studied the handwriting; as always, they hadn't even made an effort to disguise it. Then again, why would they? Those tall, spiky letters were Mueller's; Alex wrote his _l_s like that, with the big loop. It had been just the two of them, then.

After the second time it had happened, he'd started keeping cleaning products in his locker.

Quatre opened the door, warily, but nothing inside looked like it had been tampered with. Not this time.

That was something.

Squirting cleaning fluid on the locker door, he rubbed a cloth over it, obscuring those horrible words. As usual, they'd added a_ u_ and double _e_ in the space between the QR of his initials. They obviously had a low boredom threshold, or maybe that was their idea of wit.

Ha ha.

Not.

_Winner_ had been crossed out, and had _Loser_ sprawled over it, which was another favourite.

And then that graphic, ridiculous description of what two men could do in bed together; more specifically what Quatre would do to someone.

How on earth had they managed to come up with that?

He had a sudden, surreal vision of the pair poring over some hardcore gay website, loving every minute of the experience even as they spewed nonsense about how perverted and evil it was.

Quatre sat back on his heels to survey the locker door. Blast. They'd apparently used some hard-to-erase marker pens this time.

Wonderful.

'Why d'you put up with all this crap?'

Quatre whirled around, one hand flipping open the bottle of bleach. It could be a rather useful weapon, if necessary.

It had happened a couple of days ago; he'd got up early to clean his locker door, and they'd been waiting for him. Waiting, under the sadly erroneous impression that gay guys didn't know how to fight, even ones who were attending a military academy. He'd managed to correct that particular misconception, rather thoroughly, but they possibly wanted more revenge than could be achieved from a little graffiti.

It wouldn't do for two jocks to be beaten up by a fag, after all.

Trowa Barton was leaning against the door frame, hair falling over one side of his face in a graceful curve.

Quatre sat back down. Trowa had never been one of the people who tormented him. He'd never tried to help either.

'I'm not sure what else I can do, really.'

'If you bashed them often enough, I'm sure they'd give up.'

'Perhaps,' Quatre mused, 'but I don't like fighting very much. I don't think it ever achieves anything. It might make them leave me alone, for a while, but they'd only find someone else to pick on. It wouldn't actually stop them being bullies.'

Trowa flicked his forelock back; it fell back exactly in place. 'Who died and made you Gandhi?'

'Um, Gandhi, possibly.' Quatre offered him a faint smile. It was quite nice having someone to talk to. One corner of Trowa's mouth quirked, very slightly.

'You like fencing, right?'

Quatre nodded. 'Do you think I should challenge them to a duel then? Neither of them takes fencing.'

It wasn't a popular sport at the Academy. Most people saw it as a total anachronism, only offered to cadets because it was the General's favourite sport.

'Then you'd be sure to win.'

'That wouldn't be very fair.'

'Are you going after sainthood then?'

'No. I'd just like to be left alone.' He scrubbed at a particularly resistant word, half wishing Trowa would go away. It was pretty humiliating, to be on his knees trying to clean obscenities off his locker.

'Why don't you leave it? They mightn't bother writing anything else new.'

'I'd really rather everyone in the place didn't see it. Besides, I tried that two days ago. Instead, they sprayed the wall above my bed, and Lieutenant Merquise gave me a disciplinary mark for my locker being dirty.'

Trowa gave a bitter bark of a laugh. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Isn't it obvious?' Quatre brandished his cloth.

'Not that. Here. Lake Victoria Military Academy.'

'Oh. Right. My family threw out me out for being gay. I wanted to go to university but I couldn't afford the tuition.' He shrugged. 'There's an excellent business programme here, and it's all paid for by the military.'

'Bullshit,' Trowa said softly. 'I've seen your test scores on the board. I'll bet there isn't a university in the world that wouldn't offer you a full scholarship and put down the red carpet for you. What are you really doing? Raising a massive two fingers to your family by coming to a place like this? How long did it take you to work out the thing they'd hate most?'

Quatre smiled suddenly; a real smile. 'It was either this or take up pole-dancing.'

'A shame you didn't. You'd look damn good, all greased up and wrapped around a pole.'

That comment, added to the lazily appraising way Trowa was looking at him, sent scarlet rushing into his cheeks. 'I _beg_ your pardon?'

Trowa just laughed, pushing himself away from the wall, and moving closer, with the grace of a panther stalking shadows on silk. He always moved like that. Quatre had noticed, of course.

'I think you heard me, if that blush is anything to go by.' He flicked one finger against Quatre's burning skin. 'Oh, yeah. You heard all right.'

'Are you gay?' Quatre blurted.

'I believe in adhering to a strict _don't_ _ask, don't tell_ policy. But we were talking about what you're doing here.' He ran his finger down Quatre's cheek. 'I've been watching you. I can't figure you out.'

'I'm not that complicated.'

'Yeah, you are.' He took his hand away, propping his lanky frame against Quatre's locker, looming over him. 'You're very complicated. And way more interesting than anyone else here. I don't think they've ever had another first year cadet who's argued the benefits of pacifism with the General himself in a lecture.'

'He likes debating.'

Trowa grinned. 'So he does. Of course, it's pretty unusual for someone who doesn't like fighting to join a military academy in the first place, I'd say. A pretty big gesture to piss off your family; isn't it? To commit years of your life to something you don't believe in?'

Quatre sat back against the wall, canting his head to look up at Trowa. 'The Sanque Army is committed to peacekeeping only. Not aggression. And I've no intention of ever getting involved in any real action. I want to work in logistics or finance.'

The dark head nodded. 'Still. It doesn't really tie in with the way you've been acting about all of this. A guy who's prepared to throw away three years of his life doing something he claims to hate isn't the sort who sits back and takes whatever crap the universe throws at him. The way I see it, you've got two reasons for putting up with this shit. And you don't have to. That sort of bullying isn't allowed; you could report them. So either you really think there's something wrong with you being gay, and you're using this as a way to punish yourself.'

'I don't think there's anything wrong with being gay!'

'No,' Trowa agreed. 'There isn't. So you've got a plan, then. I would guess some incredibly convoluted, Machiavellian scheme of vengeance that can in no way be traced back to you.'

'It's none of your business.'

'Yeah, it is,' Trowa contradicted. 'There are just a couple of dozen of us in first year. I don't want to know what you've got planned, but I'm guessing it's going to cause total chaos. Haven't you listened to any of the lectures on teamwork; on how we're all supposed to be watching each other's backs? If you're planning on taking us out, one by one, it kind of makes a mockery of that.'

'I'm not.' It was quite true; he didn't have any quarrel with most of his fellow cadets.

'I think you need to step out of your damn ivory tower and get your head out of your ass for two seconds.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about!'

'Think about it. Why d'you reckon you get so much hassle?'

'I know exactly why!' Quatre gestured to his locker door. 'If other people have problems with my sexuality, I don't see how that's my fault.'

Trowa shook his head firmly, bangs dancing over his face. 'It's not that. Not just that. You're not the only gay person here. It's more to do with the fact that you walk around with your nose in the air like you really own the place, but the freaking servants have taken over and are making a mess of everything.'

'I do not!'

'Quatre.' Trowa bent down, squatting beside him. 'You do. I get why you do it. Everyone's known who you were from the moment you stepped through the door. You come from the wealthiest family in Sanque. Your father's a famous pacifist who's lobbying to have the country's defence budget slashed, which means this place would probably have to close. So your surname's not exactly popular here. And you're probably the smartest guy in the place. You're not just good at everything; you make it look easy, like you're not even trying. You treat Khushrenada like an equal and everyone else like a lackey.'

Quatre bit his lip. It wasn't true. It wasn't. Trowa's hand was on his shoulder.

'Do I?

'Oh yeah.' That little smile pricked the corner of mouth. 'It's kind of sexy, I think. But I can see why it pisses some people off. All newbies have to put up with a bit of shit; usually they take it for a while and then punch somebody out and it kind of evens off. You swan around like everyone else is so far beneath your notice that you couldn't care less how they treat you.' Trowa squeezed his shoulder; a little gesture to take the sting out of his words.

'I do.' Quatre whispered the two little words. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had given him even a casual touch that had nothing to do with showing him a correct stance in fencing, or a better way to hold a weapon at the shooting range. It felt good. It emphasised the terrible loneliness.

'I know.' Trowa's arm, suddenly, snaked around his neck, pulling him into a hug. 'You've got to sort this out, you know. Before someone actually gets hurt. I saw Alex and Mueller after you were through with them the other day. You lose your temper often?'

'No. Not often.'

'Just as well.'

Quatre snuggled into the broad shoulder, so temptingly close. The arm around him tightened. 'But if I … punched them out, like you said I should, why are they still treating me like this? It didn't solve anything.'

'Yeah, well, you should have taken them off to a bar, after, and got pissed with them. Instead, you hauled them both to the infirmary, apologising all the way, from what I hear. They're just a couple of hick kids, Quatre. Being here is this massive achievement for them. They've had pretty hard lives, and this is a way out for them. A way to get an education. If you get kicked out, or decide you've had enough, you've got choices. You could walk into any university programme you wanted, and I doubt your family would ever actually let you starve on the streets. They've basically got this one chance to get a better life. You might want to think about that before you decide to get revenge for a few pranks.'

'I didn't know.' Quatre heaved a huge sigh, letting himself melt into Trowa's body. 'I don't think I know anything. Everyone says I'm so clever, and I haven't a clue how to act around people.'

Trowa's mouth brushed the top of his head. 'Let me guess. School was too big of a security risk for the Winners' only son so you had private tutors? No friends? Just servants and bodyguards who were paid to spend time with you?'

'That's about it. I've never had any real friends. Just people who want to get to know me because of what my surname is.'

Trowa chuckled softly. 'That's not the case here. If you're going to make friends in this place, it'll be despite your name. And while we're on the subject of making friends and influencing people, the way you talked to Duo last night didn't do you any favours.'

'Duo? Who's that?'

'Duo Maxwell. Mouthy guy with hair down to here.' Quatre shivered as one hand traced the curve of his buttocks. 'He was only trying to be friendly.'

'Oh.' Quatre dropped his eyes, flushing slightly. Trowa's hand was still on his ass. 'I didn't know. I'd just had Alex and Mueller follow me all the way from the rifle range…making comments.'

Most of the people in this place couldn't pronounce his name correctly, shortening it to 'Cat' for convenience' sake. From there it had been only a short step for Alex and Mueller to calling him 'pussy'. They'd thought it was hilarious. Idiots. Then he'd met Maxwell – Duo – on the steps of his dorm and he'd grinned and said 'Hi Cat' and Quatre had lost it.

'I shouldn't have talked to him like that.' Quatre pressed his burning cheek into the stiff fabric of Trowa's jacket. 'I thought he was in on it. He's friendly with them, after all.'

The fingers on his backside pinched slightly, not nearly hard enough to hurt. 'Duo's friendly with everyone, pretty much. He's even tried being nice to you. He's probably the most popular guy in our year, and his boyfriend is very protective, and not someone you want to mess with. If I were you, I'd go and offer some sort of apology. Offer to buy him a soda or something.'

'I will. I was planning to.' Then it sunk in. 'Duo's gay? But … but everyone likes him!'

'Yeah.' Trowa smiled; there was a narrow gold ring around the green iris. And freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. 'Imagine that. People like Duo because he's friendly and smart and funny and he's always there for anyone with a problem. Even you, if you'd let him.'

'How do you know all this, anyway? About Alex and Mueller and Duo?'

'I pretty much grew up here. You get to learn a lot about people, living in such close quarters all the time.'

'Really?' Quatre tilted his head to look at the other boy. 'Don't you have a family?'

Trowa shrugged. 'Nope. My mother died when I was born; Dad was killed in action a few years after. The General was his superior officer; he sort of adopted me.'

'I see,' Quatre said coldly, jerking out of Trowa's embrace and jumping to his feet. That was what all of this was about then. He should have known; General Khushrenada had already given him a couple of lectures on the importance of fitting in. Trowa was only talking to him because he'd been ordered to. Stupid, that he'd thought otherwise, that someone might actually choose to seek him out for any other reason. 'Thank you for the advice. I'll try to bear it in mind.'

He managed to walk all of two steps away before Trowa slammed him against the wall.

'Get a fucking clue, Winner. I'm not doing this because TK told me to. He probably wouldn't be too impressed if he saw us like this. Conduct unbecoming a cadet and all that.' He grinned. 'You know, it's tough being his ward. I'm expected to behave with due decorum at all times.'

'Do you?' Quatre asked breathlessly. Trowa had one leg between his thighs now, the knee raised and stroking across his groin.

'Only when I'm bored.' He pressed closer. 'I'm not bored now. Not in the least. 'I've been watching you since you got here. I figured you had to be the coldest bastard in the universe, or else you were hurting so badly you'd just frozen up. Am I right?'

'Oh yes.' The last three months had been utter hell. He'd known his father wouldn't take it well, when his only son confessed his sexual preferences. He hadn't expected to be thrown away immediately afterwards, like a faulty purchase that had outlived its warranty. For the first time in his life, at eighteen, he'd been on the wrong side of the high wall around the Winner mansion.

'Then it's about time you started to melt a little bit,' Trowa said firmly.

'Nobody likes me.'

'Well, you could fix that if you wanted. You could drop that ice princess act for a start. I bet you'd thaw out into a pretty nice guy. Someone people might actually want to be around.'

'Would you?'

'I want to be around you right now.'

'You are,' Quatre whispered into the stiff, starched fabric covering Trowa's shoulder, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to touch real, warm skin. 'Around me, I mean.'

'I like it. A lot.' He leaned in; the kiss wasn't a surprise. The sheer tenderness of it was. A door slammed, close by, followed by the sound of running feet.

'Shit.' Trowa kissed him again, quickly this time. 'Come on. Must be breakfast time.'

'I don't eat in the mess hall. The last time, Alex threw a tray of food at me. I got rice pudding in my hair. It was disgusting!'

'I'll look after you. Promise.' He dropped his voice, coaxing. 'Come on, Quatre.' It was the first time Trowa had said his name; he knew how to pronounce it. 'How can you possibly turn down porridge that looks and tastes like frogspawn? _Burnt_ frogspawn. And a bit of discreet groping under the table?'

Quatre laughed suddenly, surprising himself. 'Would the General approve of that sort of behaviour?'

Trowa's own laugh was a nice blend of surprise and approval. 'The General doesn't have a leg to stand on. Or haven't you ever noticed the way he looks at Merquise? Now, come on. It's time you started practising being with other people. I sit with Duo and Heero; I'll introduce you properly. I bet you'll get on with them just fine.'

Quatre swallowed. 'I'm not very good with other people. I never know what to say. I always seem to get it wrong.'

'You do, pretty much,' Trowa said frankly. 'But you're smart. You can learn. I can help you out a bit, like an instructor. I can teach how to blend in a bit, like a regular guy.'

'I don't think you're a regular guy either.'

'No, I'm not. But I can act like one. Sometimes, it's all about blending in. I can show you that. With Duo and Heero, you can be yourself. I promise; you can trust them. OK?'

'OK. I suppose.' Quatre gnawed his bottom lip nervously.

'I'll tell you what.' Emerald lights sparkled in Trowa's eyes. 'Make nice with my friends, and after breakfast, I'll take you somewhere private and you can practice being with me for a bit. Deal?'

'


End file.
